


Must Have Been The Wind

by rosesunlight



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Alec Benjamin, Domestic Abuse (mentioned), F/M, Fluff, Leo Fitz is a Sweetheart, Short & Sweet, Songfic, mentions of possible domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 12:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19700989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesunlight/pseuds/rosesunlight
Summary: Leo Fitz is a man of instinct, so when he can hear strange noises from above him, from Jemma Simmons' dorm, he obviously goes to investigate. All it takes is one boombox and a knock off iPod to send their lives crashing into one another, merging Fitz and Simmons into the iconic FitzSimmons we know today.Based on Alec Benjamin's song Must Have Been The Wind





	Must Have Been The Wind

**Author's Note:**

> I highly suggest listening to Alec Benjamin's song while reading!
> 
> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Lots of Love,  
> Jamie

Leo Fitz sat on his dorm room bed, biting his lip thoughtfully as he tried his best to answer the final question on the paper he had been given by one of his Academy professors. He, obviously, was the best in the class—not all of them had a PHD like he did. Occasionally, he might even remind some of the older people in his classes that he was, in fact, Dr Fitz (instead of the colourful nicknames he sometimes got from his childish peers). The click of his laptop almost drowned out the soft music he had playing through his headphones-his 1st Generation iPod replica sitting beside him. He, of course, couldn’t afford to pay £200 for the real thing, so made a convincing knock-off version that worked just as well.

The playlist-the only one he had, ended. That’s when he heard it. The noise.

It was quite unmistakably a glass shattering from the apartment above his. At first, he had to admit, he thought he was dreaming-or delirious from the homework, whichever one would make him hear things. With a rub of his eyes, he continued. Besides, that was Jemma Simmons room, the only girl the same age as him at the academy. She never made much noise, even when she was angry-her footsteps weren’t heavy like his. He shrugged again, closing his laptop and changing clothes into pyjamas. They were comedic-about a few sizes too short on the legs, Hello Kitty style, with a t-shirt which didn’t match the bottoms. Just as he settled, he heard another noise, one he couldn’t ignore.

Her voice; it sounded like she’d been crying. His eyes snapped open—he knew he shouldn’t have gotten into bed. He could hear her, one hundred per cent. He tossed and turned, but he was too worried to be sleeping at a time like this. 

With a small huff, he got out of his single bed and took the elevator to the second floor. The halls were empty and the breeze nipped at his exposed ankles. 31…32…33! Yes, it was 33, because he was 23. He was so sure it was her dorm that he bravely knocked on her door, hearing a yell abruptly stop.

With a swing of the door, it was open, revealing Jemma Simmons, face red and blotchy before smiling. Fitz froze, swallowing the lump in his throat before opening his mouth.

“Hi, sorry…I live in the dorm below you, and, ehm, I couldn’t help but hear some noise—I just…um…I wanted to know if you were ok?” He asked, and she smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, nodding at every word he said, eyes drawn to his pyjamas, how silly he must’ve felt.

“Well, I do think your ears are playing tricks on you-perhaps an auditory hallucination?” She suggested as she noticed Fitz’s eyes drawn to her exposed flesh on her neck. Quickly she zipped up the sweater to her chin. “Thank you for caring, sir, that is really nice of you, but i-I have to go back in…now.” She pointed to the open door, where a man, Milton, he recognised, stood just out of sight. Fitz blinked before nodding.

“Well, okay, then.” He defeatedly, and embarrassingly, said, walking just a few feet down the corridor before she popped her head out again.

“Fitz?” He whipped his head around fast as she gave him yet another smile. “I wish I could tell you about…about this noise you heard but I didn’t hear a thing.” 

“Right.”

“Must’ve been the wind.” Fitz nodded as she disappeared back into her room. His face stayed locked on the door.

“Must’ve been the wind.” He mumbled, getting back into the elevator and taking it to the first floor, walking back in his room and flopping down on the bed  
.  
It was a whole week until he heard the noise again. He was lying on what little space he had in his room, his iPod playing his playlist as he just sat thinking. Life had proven to be rough over the last month for Fitz; his roommate suddenly moved out to cohabit with his girlfriend, leaving Fitz alone and isolated, while he still had to hear from his mother about how she was struggling to keep his childhood house on a barmaid’s salary. He did this often; stared at the ceiling and thought, cold concrete on his back. Yet again, he was in the same pyjamas when he heard it. Yelling, screaming, crying. He knew Simmons told him it was nothing, just the wind, but he couldn’t shake the feeling she was lying.

Yet he didn’t want to intrude because he knew, as a scientist, he didn’t have all the facts. Yet, there was a feeling in his gut, like he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her.

With a small huff, he stood up and took the elevator to the second floor. The halls were empty and the breeze nipped at his exposed ankles yet again. He now knew the number; he had been driving himself crazy about what was going on behind the ugly green shaded door. Number 33 was a mystery he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve. He knocked again, and the door opened up, showing Jemma Simmons, the exact same as she had been last week.  
“Hi, I…uh, I know you said it was nothing, but I can still hear-I can still hear the noise,” Fitz whispered the last part as Jemma nodded, scratching her eyebrow as she shook her head.

“I really do think you should consider the fact your ears are playing tricks on you.” Her sweater was already zipped up to her chin; she had learnt to keep it hidden from the keen-eyed seventeen-year-old that had grown on her, not that she’d admit it. “Thank you for caring, sir, it is kind, but I’m…I’m fine. I would invite you in, but I have things to do.”

“Oh, ok, Simmons”

“I really do wish I could help you, but we-I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Must’ve been the wind, then.” He smiled friendlily as she bit her lip, trying to hold back the smile as she scanned his pale body, the way his hello kitty pyjamas hung just off his hips…

“Must’ve been the wind, yeah.” She nodded with a slight chuckle, and he memorised how her tongue stuck out, how her eyes curved and crinkled, how her laugh sounded like wind chimes to his ears. He turned around awkwardly, shuffling his way to his room. There was no way it was the wind; no wind sounds as despaired as the ones he’d been hearing. Jemma Simmons had a boyfriend; he knew that much. He was in operations; Miles? Morgan…Milton! His name was Milton, a big brute of a boy, always in the training room, punching the dummies so hard they’d have to sew the heads back on in detention. Yes, come to think of it, he was awfully violent…perhaps this was what was going on? No, no he couldn’t jump to conclusions.

The noises stopped after a few minutes, someone slamming the door, and another sob escaping the girl. He hated being helpless; it was like with his father all over again. He wouldn’t stand for it, her sobs were tearing down the walls he had encased his heart in. His eyes darted around the room, landing on his boombox that he’d adapted to be louder. Yes! If she didn’t want to talk about it, he could at least tell her…encode some sort of message. He flicked through his one and only playlist; Lean On Me by Bill Withers—it was perfect, the one song that could tell her exactly what he wanted her to know.

He aimed the boombox at the roof-Lean On Me blasting through the walls.  
Sometimes in our lives we all have pain,  
We all have sorrow  
But if we are wise  
We know there’s always tomorrow

Jemma’s ears perked up from her tear-stained pillow, hearing the melody carrying through the walls, lighting up her dull apartment. She let out a smile, sobbing one last time as she heard the chorus, laughing with a joy she hadn’t felt in a long time. It was coming from below her and at once, she knew; Leo Fitz, the boy who thought he’d been hearing the wind for the past two weeks, was calling out to her.

Lean on me, when you’re not strong  
And I’ll be your friend  
I’ll help you carry on  
For it won’t be long  
Till I’m gonna need  
Somebody to lean on.

Fitz is smiling too, he’s singing along, hoping that she can’t hear him over the music belting out the notes to the song. He hopes she knows; he hopes she realises that he’s playing it just so she knows she can lean on him, trust him as any friend would. This sad song would act as his friend request to Jemma Simmons, as he’d never been good with people. He hopes, just as any friend would, that when she hears the words she knows she’ll be okay.  
This time, there’s a knock on his door. With a click he turns the music off, approaching the door and opening it cautiously. There stood Jemma Simmons, a mess, on his doorstep. She, even with damp cheeks and red blotted eyes and no makeup, looked stunning. He had to regain his breath as she cleared her throat.

“Sorry to intrude, but I can hear this noise…” With that, Fitz let out a laugh, and as did she. She couldn’t believe she’d been pushing such a caring and kind boy away from her.

“Well, I promise I’m not playing tricks on you; you’re always welcome to come in. In fact, if you’d like, you could stay here for an hour or two if you ever need a friend.” Fitz promised as her ears pricked with new, fresh tears; Jemma had never known kindness like it. “We can talk about the noise when you’re ready…but ‘till then…I’ll say it must have been the wind.”

“Yes, it must have been the wind. Thank you, Fitz…so much.” She said, taking him in a bone-crushing hug, sobbing into his mismatched pyjamas. For once, Jemma felt truly at home.


End file.
